


from an earth to its sun

by traumatic



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe, Beaches, Boys Kissing, Clocks, Countdowns, Crack Treated Seriously, Cruise Ships, Dark, Developing Relationship, Doom, Doomed Relationship, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Growing Old Together, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, References to Illness, Rescue, Sad Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Swimming, Swimming Boys, Swimming Pools, Timers, briefly, impending doom, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18004160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumatic/pseuds/traumatic
Summary: Isak feels like he's woken up as the protagonist in a weird, science-fiction novel and doesn't know how to get back to real life. The addition of the boy with the heart-shaped sunglasses is great for the plot, but not so great for his sanity.Or, the entire world goes to bed normally and wakes up with glowing countdowns above their heads. No one's sure what causes the numbers to drop, only that when they hit 0, you hit the ground.





	1. remission

**Author's Note:**

> such a long process but it's finally here! finally complete!
> 
> thanks to [skamsnake](https://skamsnake.tumblr.com/) for the wonderful and amazing edits and for the extra help and beta-ing you gave me with the writing! it's been so incredible to work with you and i'm so grateful for the opportunity to see your beautiful work first hand! you truly went above and beyond and i could not have done this without you, so thank you!!!! :)
> 
> Also big thanks to the people running the big bang! i'm so glad to have been involved in this. :)
> 
> I know Virginia doesn't technically have that good samaritan law yet, but it should. I write for the future dogs deserve.

Isak barely notices his at first. Doesn't even spot it until he's checking himself out in the glass on the storefront of a deli on his way to work. There's a giant, glowing 9792 above his head, floating like it belongs there. He turns and sees other people staring openly at each other, catches sight of dozens of different numbers. 997,904, 183,743,873, 62, 7, 1.

Everyone in Isak’s line of sight seems to have a dodgy green countdown riding on top of their noggins.

He reaches up to try and touch them, but his fingers go through empty air. The numbers are projections or something, are untouchable. Isak watches himself jump in the glass, making a complete fool out of himself, and the number follows like it had anticipated the jump.

What it could mean, he has no fucking clue. He doesn’t have time to wonder when it’s already 8:55 and he has to be in the building by 9. He's sure the place is probably full of confused people with clocks above their heads.

He shakes his head, curious, but almost late for work, and dashes down the sidewalk, his new follower still floating freely above him, like a new unwanted friend.

The minute he steps into the hospital and is saved from the exhausting ache of the Virginian heat, he Googles his way through 7 different news sites. The only thing they seem to have is more questions.

The people in the lobby of the ER each have a number, each stare incredulously at the others. It's bizarre to say the least.

Isak settles down in the chair behind the glass of the nurse’s station and clocks in. He has sat there all day, 5 days a week for almost a decade, and has never seen an epidemic so large; he can't imagine anyone has.

Isak's day is full of people stopping in to say that they're sure they're crazy, that they have to be. There aren't really floating green numbers above people’s heads, right?

Isak has the misfortune of being the one to tell them the truth. No one is crazy for seeing the numbers. They're real. They're there. Isak just hopes they go away quickly.

By the end of the first week, no one has any leads. The CDC and the WHO are working “tirelessly" on trying to understand the science behind the numbers, but Isak has other things to worry about. He has school and paying his rent and he also has to worry about the fact that the number above his mother’s head says 1.

Isak doesn't know what happens at 0, what causes the count to drop or why the countdown showed up, but he is nevertheless scared for his mother.

She's still pretty young, as mothers go, but spends her time in a full time care facility due to a degenerative—and unfortunately genetic—neurological condition. Isak absolutely refuses to get monitored for a disease he may not even get; he refuses to dampen his quality of life with the knowledge of his impending doom.

He will ignore it until it can no longer be ignored.

Isak usually visits her a couple times a week, but he has visited her every day since the Beginning. Since the numbers showed up. Since her count read 1.

Isak sits beside her bed in a rickety wicker chair and reads to her because she can no longer hold anything with precision, can no longer flip the pages herself.

> “Tobias blinked at her, light eyebrows gone beneath his bangs, and retrieved something slim and shiny from his belt. Agatha caught sight of it, a sharp throwing knife, and her eyes widened. Her mouth opened in protest as the knife sailed through the air and sunk into her chest.
> 
> “'I know,’ she whispered as she collapsed to her knees, 'that I will one day see you in hell.’"
> 
> “'Should that happen,’ he said dryly, stepping forward to shove the knife in deeper. Her flesh squelched and she screamed as Tobias continued. _'Should_ that happen, I will enjoy killing you again and again and again for _all_ eternity.’”

“Holy shit,” Isak's mother interrupts. “That's dark, Isak. What kind of book did you say this was again?”

“The librarian from the library downtown said it was good,” he feels a bit bad about it.

The book is truly atrocious. What kind of person enjoys this melodramatic revenge bullshit?

“She needs help,” Isak's mother laughs and then suddenly goes very still.

The muscles in her face go slack. Her arms stiffen. Her eyelids fall shut.

“Mom?” he says, growing more worried by the second. “Mom!?”

When she doesn't respond and instead starts to seize, he stumbles out into the hall and cries out for the nurses.

“Help! Oh, my God, I think she's having a seizure!” he says wildly, hand on his forehead as his mother convulses. “Fucking help her!”

Nurses rush into the room. They push Isak out of the way, blocking his view of his mother. He can only see flashes of her body, wracked with tremors, bloody foam slipping down her chin. Over the heads of the nurses, Isak sees the number glowing neon above the crowd.

The countdown says 0.

-

By the first month, the silence in Isak’s mind is deafening. He is alone in this world with an ever dwindling number above his head. Isak's ticket might soon be up. His number has fallen by at least 1500, but he's really trying _not_ to keep track.

The WHO has no fucking clue why the numbers are shrinking, why the 0s cause people to die. If everyone died in the same way, they say on the news, maybe they'd be able to find what's causing it and stop it, but no one dies in the same manner. Isak's mom, patient zero, died from a seizure. The next person died after getting run over by a bus. The person after that was stabbed.

Nothing on this godforsaken earth makes sense anymore. Isak still goes to work, still worries about his thesis, still graduates while no one watches him cross the stage, but only because he doesn't have anything better to do.

To say he lives a new and sheltered life wouldn't be an exaggeration.

By the next month, Isak is down to roughly 6k whatevers left on this round, green hell. By then, the WHO finds a weird strain of people, approximately .0000001 percent of the population—about 750 people— whose clocks have always been a zero and are somehow not dead.

It leads to lots of speculation—is the countdown about life? Is it just simply a coincidence? A flaw?—and no concrete answers. Isak gives up watching the news around that time, feeling like the gossip is ruining his quality of life.

Isak isn't even 24 but he only has 6013 things left to live through. He can't be bothered with the media’s theories anymore. Isak gets why people are concerned, but just can't bring himself to care. He's only really surviving anyway. At least the clock will rid him of his misery soon.

-

Isak sits outside a café two blocks from his apartment and sweats. It's so goddamn hot outside that he could probably fry a goddamn egg on the concrete. He's almost tempted to try.

There's a car parked a couple yards down the street in front of an apartment building—a rusty Dodge Neon with dark purple peeling paint. Isak only notices because something is jumping around inside it and has been for the last hour. Is someone really fucking in this heat? How aren't they dying of heatstroke?

He stares down the street, sunglasses lifted on top of his head in an attempt to get a better view, and gasps when he realizes what he sees—it’s not two people fucking. It’s a dog locked inside a burning hot, piece of shit Dodge Neon.

Isak checks the temperature on his phone and shakes his head, angry and worried and already jogging down the street to reach for the door handle.

It's locked, of course it is, so he listens to make sure the car isn't running. If the air is on, well, at least the dog won't bake to death in the 101° heat. Isak can’t even imagine how hot it is inside. He knows that the inside of a car is like an oven or whatever. It has to be at least 130° in there.

The piece of shit car is off and a short, skinny beagle looks up at him with wide brown eyes.

He's a beautiful dog, but even if he wasn't, was the ugliest dog on earth, Isak would still do what he does.

He turns around, mutters “people fucking _suck",_ and runs back down the street to the cafe where he picks up a chair and runs back. He's gathered a little crowd, unfortunately, and hears them murmuring things like “that poor dog" and “is he really going to…?”.

Isak ignores them and, with all the strength in his body, swings the chair against the passenger side window. There's a scratch, a dent, but the glass doesn't give. Isak does it again and again, but the window is strong or, perhaps, Isak is just too weak.

“Does anyone have a crowbar or something?” He asks pointedly as they stare. “Come _on!_ The dog is gonna fucking die!”

This knocks some sense into them. The overall answer is a resounding no.

He smashes the chair against the glass again. Nothing.

The poor little dog, splotched with patches of brown fur, is laying down down underneath the dash, panting so heavily Isak knows there isn't much time left.

“Jesus Christ!” he shouts, literally dripping sweat, and then a nice car pulls up next to the Neon and a tall, blond boy runs out, hair perfect, skin dry, voice firm.

He looks unfazed by the blinding, June heat and wears dark colored clothes and cute sunglasses with lenses shaped like hearts.

“I've got a baseball bat,” he says conspiratorially, like he and Isak are a team of vigilantes who save dogs from roasting to death in cars. “It's aluminium.”

Isak barely hears the weird pronunciation of the word aluminum and instead grabs the bat in his hands, winds up, and shatters the glass with two solid swings.

Sighing with relief and exhaustion, he reaches his arm in and unlocks the door, cutting himself shallowly on the remaining glass. He, nearly crying in relief, reaches for the dog, who comes willingly. The little beagle weighs less than 20 pounds and is all boney.

It's obvious he isn't being well cared for.

“Anyone have any water?” Isak asks, heading immediately for the cool air conditioned café when no one answers.

The dog barely moves in his arms as he sets him down onto the ground and pours the first bottle of water all over the poor thing. It's cool, at least.

The second, supplied by Heart Glasses, goes in a ceramic bowl as the dog sputters a little.

Isak is just so happy he's okay. If his life is destined to end, at least he has done one good thing with it.

-

-

Isak sits with this tiny little dog until the poor thing feels well enough to lick his face and settle down in his lap. Isak swoons a little, having always had a soft spot for dogs, and decides that he and this little beagle will be roommates if it's possible. He'd really like that.

The cops had already been by, had taken Isak’s statement and photos. They weren't too concerned because Isak followed the law. They leave pretty quickly afterward.

The crowd has mostly dispersed at this point, had places to be or just got bored, so it's just Isak, the little dog, and Heart Shaped Glasses seated upon the floor of the café. Isak looks up and realizes how fucking cute Heart Glasses is and flushes. He probably looks like utter shit. Dirty, covered in sweat, a little blood, and dog hair. He can't imagine he smells very good either.

Heart eyes has a green number above his head, too, just like everyone else. Though, his says 9 where Isak’s says 6010.

“I'm Even,” Glasses says finally, still scratching underneath little dog’s chin, a weird accent in his mouth.

“Isak.”

“And who are _you?”_ Glasses says, grinning as he reaches to check Little Dog’s collar. “Ronald? Gross.”

“Are you serious?” Isak scoffs. “People are fucking weird.”

“Aren't they?” Even grins. “Dogs are better.”

“I was just gonna say that,” Isak says softly. “You think his owner’ll be mad?”

“He can't do shit about it. Virginia has Good Samaritan laws for exactly this situation.”

“Good thing because I didn’t care if it did or not.”

“You didn't care and yet you were willing to risk a fine and maybe even jail time? Brave.”

“I wouldn't say brave,” Isak shakes his head. “Stubborn and too loyal, maybe.”

“Is there such a thing as being too loyal?”

Isak doesn't know how to respond so he doesn't, but the answer is yes. He just pets Little Dog and wonders where they go from here.

Fortunately, the door of the café opens and in walks a tall, ginger-haired fellow wearing rimless clear glasses, positively dripping with sweat. He's also quite furious.

“You fucking broke my window?” Ginger says, arms outstretched from his sides a little.

He's lanky and gigantic, though not in a good way. His arms and legs are too long for his short torso and it gives the effect that he's been stretched out. Like he’s a sculpture that didn't turn out quite right.

His number is 350,393. What a pity.

“Your dog would've died,” is all Isak says.

It's all he should have to say anyway. No one should ever leave their dog in a car on a hot day. Not even on a _warm_ day.

“I was in and out!”

“Mate,” Even scoffs, “you've been gone at least 2 and a half hours.”

“Oh, fuck off. He would've been fine!”

“I don't think he would've,” Isak says plainly, “and it doesn't matter. Legally, even if you had been very quick, I could've smashed your window in anyway. Good samaritan and all that.”

“Are you even gonna pay for my window?”

“No.”

The man sighs loudly, annoyingly, and deflates. He looks pitiful; Isak sort of hates him.

“Can I have my dog back?”

“No,” Even and Isak say together; they share a conspiratorial look.

“Seriously?” Ginger snaps. “He’s mine!”

“But if it wasn't for us, you wouldn't even have one. He'd be roasted like a fuckin chicken.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles and then stalks away on his too-long legs.

Isak watches him go, realizes that Little Dog hadn't even moved when he saw his owner, hadn't even been excited, and feels good about his choices.

“What a jerk,” Even says flatly, eyes still on the door.

“Yeah,” Isak sighs. “Truly.”

The barista warns them that closing time is in just under 15 minutes, so Isak stands, pays for the stuff he’s bought, and tips them with all the cash left in his wallet for being such understanding people. If they hadn't let him inside, the dog might have died.

Even waits for him at the door, perhaps to say goodbye, perhaps because he doesn't want to go out alone. Either way, Isak is okay with him tagging along.

“So what will you name him?” Even asks once they're outside.

The sun has set now, so the sky is dark and the street lights are on. Their countdowns glow faintly in the dark, casting an uncomfortable green hue over their faces.

Isak can see his own reflected on the storefront and notices it's gone down even more. 6003. Whatever the numbers mean, Isak has just lost seven more.

Heart Eyes’ number is bright and perhaps a little sad. 9.

“I don’t know…”

“Well,” Even says, slightly grinning. “How about I give you my number and you let me know what his name is when you decide?”

Isak, depressed as he is, knows a pass when he hears one. Also knows that, even though Even only has 9 whatevers left, they could last years. There are records of people with 1 who have survived since the beginning and still _continue_ to thrive. And then there are the people with the 0s, too.

“Absolutely,” Isak smiles.

Later, after Even has put his phone number in Isak’s phone and gone on his way, Isak heads back home. When he gets there, he sets out some leftover chicken for Little Dog and a bowl of cold water. Then, he checks his phone and changes Even’s contact name to Heart Shaped Glasses with a quiet, self-indulgent laugh.

* * *

 

To: ♡ Shaped 

His name is Prometheus

To: cute isak

After the titan who gave humans fire? Wasn't he chained up to have his liver eaten by an eagle for all eternity?

To: ♡ Shaped 

Yeah but he was freed by Chiron and Heracles

To: cute isak 

So which one are you? Chiron the centaur who gave his life for the cause or Heracles the demi-god who killed the eagle?

To: ♡ Shaped 

Right for the heavy self-reflective questions eh?

To: cute isak 

Only got 9 whatevers left lol i dont have time to mess around

But I think you're Heracles. You risked a lot to free Prometheus and no one asked you to. A lot of people wouldn't have done that.

To: ♡ Shaped 

Okay then, Chiron, wisest and most just amongst all of centaur kind ;)

* * *

 

Isak's known Even and his cute smiles and his heart shaped sunglasses for four months when something terrible happens.

It's a Sunday in early October, so the air is cool and the trees are orange. Isak usually spends his Sundays in bed until noon and then alone in his apartment until bedtime where he falls asleep at 8pm and sleeps well.

Not this Sunday. This Sunday, he spends the day searching every square inch of his apartment for Even's heart shaped glasses because he's misplaced them and they're his favorite.

After hours of tidying and moving heavy furniture, Isak gives up. There's no place left to search.

Even's missing sunglasses are not here.

* * *

 

To: ♡ Shaped 

No glasses here, my friend. I wish they were

To: cute isak 

Thanks for looking. I haven't found them yet either and I flipped my entire flat.

I'm truly a moron. How could I lose something so important?

To: ♡ Shaped 

Do these glasses have a story?

To: cute isak 

They're the last thing my parents ever bought me

To: ♡ Shaped 

Oh I'm so sorry even:( I wish I knew where they were  

To: cute isak 

I dont even know where to get another pair. They bought them for me as a gift. A gift they never had to chance to see me open.

To: ♡ Shaped 

We'll find replacement ones, okay? Maybe star shaped ones this time.

To: cute isak 

Yeah, sounds good thanks isak

I just miss them you know??

My glasses and my parents

To: ♡ Shaped 

I know the feeling

To: cute isak 

We'll get through it

Right?

To: ♡ Shaped 

Of course we will.

To: cute Isak 

Together?

To: ♡ Shaped 

Together.

* * *

 

Isak is sort of enamored because Even is perfect in all the right ways.

He understands most, if not all, of Isak’s obscure references and seems to love dogs as much as he does. Isak likes to think that maybe they're fated to be together in some weird, cosmic joke that ends up with death or gore or pain. Very Romeo and Juliet (which is how Even would like it considering that's one of his favorite movies).

It's only been maybe five months since the day Isak got Prometheus, but it feels like Even and Isak have known each other for decades. It's like they're best friends and always have been. It's fucking awesome.

Even only has 9 whatevers left on this godless earth so Isak is doing as any best friends would do in this situation—helping him use them very thoroughly. Makes sure Even is getting the Full Experience in Virginia. Or as full of an experience Virginia can give a boy who has travelled halfway across the world.

For someone so well versed, so traveled, he is very careful with his words and his actions. He is very...reserved. Isak, who wasn't raised to keep his emotions inside and quiet, seems to be a bit of a shock to him. A shock that he seems to enjoy the company of, so long as he isn't saying any curses.

When Isak asks him about it, he just responds that that was how he was raised; he doesn't know any different.

Plus it's not like it's hurting anyone for Even to say Darn instead of Damn or for him to look away from sex scenes in movies. Sometimes, he even pulls a Captain America and says, “Language!” when Isak gets especially provocative.

It's funny and it's super fucking cute and it's also just odd, is all. Especially with how the world is today.

Isak’s number has largely dropped from 6 thousand to 4500 in just a few short months where Even’s has remained steady. Whatever Isak’s doing, he should damn well stop it before he dies without kissing Even at least once.

It's just about the only life goal Isak has left anyway.  

Even is sort of a connoisseur of life goals, though. He has a whole fucking list.

Isak supposes that only having 9 whatevers left would inspire anyone to make a to-do list.

It's December when Even seeks out Isak’s help with a very important one.

“On my list,” he says poshly, standing in front of Isak’s desk in the ER, “next is I want to go on a boat. Go somewhere cool. Somewhere nothing like Virginia.”

“We talking domestic? Or international?”

“Either.”

“How about Antarctica?” Isak asks, grinning. “At least it's cold there.”

Virginia is in the middle of some weird fucking weather. It's December and it's also 70° F. No snow in sight, not that there usually is, but still.

“What about Canada? We could go to Quebec and I could impress you with my French.”

Even, of course, is from Norway where the education (and language) system is infinitely better than The States’, so he speaks like 17 languages. (Okay 4 but.)

“You impress me daily, Even,” Isak admits. “No need to boat hundreds of miles north to do that.”

Isak does know a little French from high school, but it's not enough to even bother mentioning. A handful of verbs and two greetings. A goodbye and a question of time. The number 99.

 _“Merci,”_ Even grins, _“mon amour.”_

 _Amour?_ Isak smirks. Bites the inside of his lip. Cute.

“You're welcome,” is all he says. “How about Florida? Ever been?”

It's hot there, too, of course, but at least it’s hot on purpose. Plus there are beaches and lots of chances to get drunk.

“You know what?” Even grins. “Florida is perfect! Have you ever been?”

“Once, yeah. With my dad before he disowned me.”

Isak is, as previously mentioned, gay as fuck. His dad, his ignorant, homophobic dad, couldn't get over it, so he cut him off. Just like he did his wife when she got sick. Or sicker, Isak supposes. She's always had really shitty health.

“It’s a beautiful place.”

“Perhaps you’d come along?”

“What?”

“My English isn't perfect and I unfortunately don't speak much Spanish, so I'd be pretty lost. If you could get the time off of work and someone to watch Prometheus, I mean. I'd really like it if you came to help me out.”

“What?” Isak is shocked and confused.

“I would pay, of course, because you're coming as a favor to me. All expensives paid.”

Isak’s lip curls involuntarily. Expensives.

“So you will come?”

“You barely know me,” Isak says flatly.

“We’ve been friends for 6 months now!”

“I can't let you pay for that, Even,” Isak says simply, after a sigh. “That’s not a position I wanna put you in.”

“It’s no position! To be truthful to you, there's something I must say. My parents left me a considerable sum of money when they died...and I’m using what I can of it during my numbered days.”

Both of Even’s parents died a couple years ago in a car crash. Isak had no idea about the money, though, and it’s not like it mattered to him either way if Even was dirt poor or rich as fuck.

“Aren't all of our days numbered now?”

“So you will come?”

“I...That's too much to ask of you.”

“I assure you,” Even grabs his hand firmly between both of his, “it is a gift. I don't want to leave my last friend here in smelly Virginia alone for Christmas. So come with me.”

Isak stares at him for a long, tense moment. There's desperation in his eyes, like he knows how close he is to dropping dead and doesn't want to be alone when it happens.

Isak gets anxious thinking about both of their impending deaths—at 9 and 4497 respectively—and sighs.

“Fine,” he smiles a little. “I'll come.”

_“Du vil?!” ~~(You will?)~~ _

_“Ja.”_ Isak rolls his eyes. ~~_(Yes)_ ~~

He is too cute for words.

Even grins so widely it has to hurt and he looks so good, with his dumb star-shaped replacement glasses pushed up on his head, with Isak’s hand clutched between his own, that Isak can't help but grin back.

“Christmas in paradise!”

-

Isak goes home that night to Prometheus and wonders who will watch him while he’s gone. Texts Even to see what he knows.

The answer is nothing. Dog hotels are apparently a mystery to him. He does say there’s a cruise ship leaving in two weeks and he’s already booked two tickets, which is cute and also makes Isak a little uncomfortable.

Then Isak texts his friend, Jonas, whom he sees on occasion when the timing is right, if he’d be up to watching him for a couple nights.

Jonas, an avid dog lover but unfortunate cat owner, couldn't have a dog himself because his live in girlfriend was allergic, but they broke up last month, and now he’s alone (besides Jinx the cat).

He responds almost immediately.

* * *

 

To: p-issy 

First when did u get a dog

Second send pics

Third yes

Fourth what's his name

Fifth do it now

To: jonas 

I got him a while ago. he’s the best, also thank u so much. His name is Prometheus. We’ll be leaving onthe 21st so it's not too long or anything

I'll send food and toys and stuff with him so you dont have to worry about anything

To: p-issy 

He is so CUTE.

where did you get him????????

Also I absolutely 100% dont mind!!!!! Emma is gone and here comes Prometheus!!!!! (Odd name; story??)

To: jonas 

I sorta stole him???? But like it’s more like I confiscated him. You know that law that says u can break car windows if there's a dog locked inside? Well I did.

To: p-issy 

I cannot wait for the 21st!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also who is “we"?????? You and the cute blond boy i’ve seen you with on insta and snap????? Hmmmmmmmmm

* * *

 

To: cute isak 

Hope you're packed! I've only got 9 whatevers left and I am _more_ than ready to go.

To: ♡ Eyes 

I am…………....not

Oops

And what? you are??????? How?

To: cute isak 

When u have 5200 whatevers left, you can waste time but i cannot! Lmfaoo get packed!!!!!! Do laundry!!!!! Bring sunscreen for your pale ass body

To: ♡ Eyes 

:/

I'm not that pale

To: cute isak 

You'll probably need like SPF100+

A doctor will probably have to prescribe that

To: ♡ Eyes 

Fuck off

You're paler than I am anyways

See you on Monday ♡

* * *

 

Isak and Even go window shopping on Saturday because Isak is in desperate need of a new bathing suit. The last time he’d gone swimming was at least 4 years ago, which is sort of sad, considering how fucking hot it is outside. Even doesn’t seem bothered by the heat, though, even though he’s from the frigid lands of Norway.

The sun is high in the sky and burning the back of Isak’s neck when they start their walk through town, fingers brushing every couple of steps as they walk. Even’s face looks strange without his signature glasses on the bridge of his nose, almost awkward. The lenses are cute on him, but are nothing like the rose-colored ones he usually wears.

He still looks gorgeous, though, and Isak can’t help but stare just a little. Even doesn’t seem to mind, because he’s staring just a little at Isak, too.

“What do you have in mind?” Even asks in reference to his bathing suit. “Want little mini yellow shorts? A polka dot bikini?”

Isak grins, “I was thinking something very simple. You know me...simple as it gets.”

“You’re anything but simple.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

Isak shrugs, smiling still, and nods at Target. Even agrees and they head inside, pinkies pressing against each other for just a second before they’ve moved past each other again.

-

Isak exits with a navy pair of bathing suit bottoms and the biggest bottle of sunscreen he can buy while Even purchases a blanket for the beach. They wander down the busy streets, browsing through the store windows, watching people’s numbers go down right in front of their eyes.

“Isn’t it crazy,” Even says, “how we have grown so careless to the timers above our heads? Like we just don’t even notice that they’re counting down to our deaths.”

“People can get used to anything,” Isak whispers and he thinks about his mother briefly because she used to say that.

Just as they pass another store front, Isak stops. Gasps.

There she is, Isak thinks. There’s his mother, born again and placed throughout his future, even after her death. There’s her shirt, a shirt he used to wear, a shirt she used to, too.

It’s worn and a little misshapen, but that’s it.

There’s a faded logo on it, one Isak knows says _Madsen Mercury_ , an ode to his great grandfather’s dead business. There had only been ten or fifteen shirts made in total, probably almost 50 years ago, so it’s fate that it wandered into this vintage store in fucking Virginia. He has to have it.

It might be the only thing left of her.

Even touches his arm, drawing him back into reality.

“Isak?” He asks, looking a touch concerned. “What’s up?”

“My mom used to own a shirt like that.”

When it had no longer fit her, had fallen off her shoulders like a dress, she had passed it along to him and he kept it. He kept it until he accidentally ruined it with bleach, like he ruins everything.

He glances over at the price tag and almost falls over. $250? What are these shops trying to do?

He shakes his head despairingly. Even if he hadn’t spent all that money at Target, he still wouldn’t be able to afford it and rationally, he knows he shouldn’t. His mother would’ve hated if he spent that much on a shirt some stranger had worn, but it doesn’t stop his heart from breaking a little as he turns away.

Even looks back, just for a second, and then follows him quietly. They don’t say anything for a long time afterward.

-

Monday morning comes slower than Isak would like and simultaneously faster. He packs his bags Sunday morning and spends the entire day cuddling with Prometheus on the couch.

He is the perfect dog for Isak.

Jonas comes by at 9 to pick him up and instantly falls in love. He spends 45 minutes just holding his cute little beagle body and rubbing his belly. He’s glad Prometheus and Jonas seem to get along so well. It’ll make the transition easier.

Jonas’ number still shocks Isak at how high it is. He’s not sure he’s ever seen one that goes over 2,000,000 that isn’t on a kid, but here Jonas is with a glowing 2,183,183 hanging over his head. It makes Isak feel a little sad for Even and maybe even a little sad for himself.

-

Isak has trouble sleeping the entire night by excitement and anxiety. His stomach is in excited knots and his brain is telling him that he shouldn’t have let Even take him, that it’s too much money. He's composing his “I'm sorry but I can't let you spend this much on me; I hope we can still be friends or maybe more if you want” speech when someone rings his doorbell.

He goes to get it, and is delighted and anxious when he sees it's Even, wearing an ivory jean jacket with a deep red scarf. Isak wonders how he isn't sweating profusely and then answers that on his own.

Even is inhuman and apparently not affected by temperature like other mortals.

“Are you ready? I can’t wait to lie out on a beach somewhere! Drinking American drinks and learning some Spanish!”

“Are you gonna turn this entire trip into a learning experience?” Isak wrinkles his nose, but he’s smiling, so the effect isn’t there, “because I’m not so sure that that kind of trip is for me.”

“What isn’t a learning experience?” Even grins so brightly that Isak can’t help but smile back.

Even is just so damn beautiful that he’s hard to look at sometimes. He is so symmetrical and his face is so well-balanced and he is so tall and Isak might possibly be already sort of in love with him.

“True, true.”

“Where’s your bag?” Even is still smiling, still glowing with crinkly eyes and white teeth.

Fuck, he truly is impossible to be around. Truly is inhuman in all the most beautiful and most intelligent ways.

“Over...there somewhere,” Isak is distracted and is happy to find that he’ll be distracted like this for two weeks straight. “I’m sure.”

“Can we....go? Or do you have other plans?”

“Oh!” Isak says suddenly and Even laughs. “Yes, about that—”

“No!” Even says suddenly, serious, pointing a finger at Isak. “Don’t even start! I typically always take no for an answer, but on this one occasion, I will not! Zip your mouth!”

Isak outright laughs because Even is so fucking adorable.

“You mixed those together at the end there,” Isak says gently. “Zip your lips is a common one. Shut your mouth is another, though perhaps a bit too vulgar for your virginal ears.”

Even’s face, as if on cue, turns pink and Isak grins again. Too easy.

“Either way!” He says forcefully. “You aren’t allowed to say no, so zip up your mouth or whatever and let’s just go!”

Isak allows himself one more glance at Even and one more thought at how the word virginal had so deeply embarrassed him before he turns away to put on his jean jacket and his sneakers. Even had kindly invaded his apartment to grab his suitcase and watches him struggle to tie his shoes standing up.

“Don’t be rude,” Isak says haughtily when he’s finished. “It’s unbecoming.”

“That implies that you think I’m normally becoming, does it not?”

“‘Zip your mouth’!” Isak mocks his accent joyfully, tapping him once on the nose as he pushes past him toward the hallway.

“‘Don’t be rude! It’s unbecoming!’” Even mocks back, dragging Isak’s suitcase behind him as he turns off the light and closes the door.

“If we continued doing this, it would never end.”

“We should probably stop, then.”

“Maybe.”

“‘Maybe’,” Even adds, sounding just a bit American, and even a little southern.

Isak's accent is nowhere near as pronounced as that! How _rude!_

“Jackass,” Isak scoffs as he locks his front door.

“‘Jackass’.”

Isak’s eyes widen as he laughs so hard he has to stop walking. That is not a good look on him; it’s also fucking hilarious.

“Never say that again,” Isak shakes his head. “Promise. It was too embarrassing.”

“Fine,” Even sighs, nudging Isak with one hand. “So long as you promise to not worry about money this entire trip.”

Isak turns a little as they press the elevator button and watches him for just a second, watches the blond eyelashes lining his eyes, and nods, just once.

“Fine.”

-

They take an Uber to the coast and Even spends much of the ride talking with their driver in German. A german! In the middle of Virginia! Isak wishes he could participate because it would be so interesting to speak with her.

He imagines she speaks English, but Even just keeps going in German, so she doesn’t switch over. Isak doesn’t mind, per se, but he doesn’t _not_ mind.

Even’s voice is beautiful even when he’s speaking gibberish, though, so how could he truly, thoroughly be bothered? Besides Even only has so many conversations left to have, so many languages left to speak, so many people left to meet. Maybe Isak should just learn German and bridge that gap himself.

 _“Ist er dein Freund?”_ She asks, eyeing them both in the rearview mirror. ~~_(Is he your friend?)_ ~~

Isak is, of course, lost, but he presses his lips together in an unsure smile anyway as Even answers.

_“‘Freund’?” ~~(Friend?)~~ _

_"Geht ihr aus?"_ He turns to look at Isak, smirk curling one side of his mouth, and laughs a little. ~~_(Are you dating?)_ ~~

_“Noch nicht,”_ Even says, sighing. ~~_(Not yet)_ ~~

Isak wishes he had Google Translate in his head. How cool would that be?  He pulls out his phone in a moment of pure genius and opens the website, pressing the listen button as they speak for a moment.

He turns his volume down and presses translate from German.

**_Where are you guys going Florida for two weeks going to get some sun with hope we’re both badly pale and might toast_ **

Isak is unimpressed by the small talk, but doesn’t know what he truly expected. They’re strangers, after all.

“Almost there,” she says suddenly in English as Isak sees the port come into view.

There’s not much of a line, probably because it’s literally only 5 degrees cooler here than it is in Florida, but Isak can see a large, white ship with bright banners hung from it.

Isak finds himself muttering what he feels might be a good translation of “I hope that this isn’t like the Titanic” in French.

Even laughs beside him, hand on the seat in between their knees, so close and yet so far. Isak sort of wants to grab his hand, so he does. Sort of.

He hooks his last two fingers with Even’s without hesitating and Even doesn’t pull away. In fact, he grins down at his knees and bites his cheek. Glances at Isak glancing at him.

“Have a nice trip!” She says brightly as she parks the car. _“Auf Wiedersehen, Even und Isak!” ~~(Good bye, Even and Isak)~~ _

_“Danke, Hanna! Bis später!" ~~(Thanks, Hanna! See you later!)~~ _

“Thank you,” Isak says lightly as they both exit the car, bags in hand, excited and nervous and so happy to be there.

-

Their room is full of glamour unlike anything Isak has ever known. Marble counter tops, hardwood floors, a giant fucking chandelier.

The beds are humongous and they look cozy enough, though Isak’s bed at home surely feels more comfortable. He doesn’t have fifty-five unnecessary pillows and sheets that are almost _too_ silky.

Even is silent, too, but probably not for the same reasons. His former life, the one he had with his parents, was filled with luxuries like this. With claw foot bathtubs and flat screen TVs and expensive Italian footwear.

He’s probably silent because he’s realizing how little space there is between the beds, how close they’ll be to one another. He’s probably thinking of anything but what Isak is.

“Holy shit,” Isak whispers because it’s all he can think of.

“Holy shit is right.”

Even tosses his “dumb, ugly, and uncomfortable” replacement sunglasses onto his bed carelessly and starts to unpack his suitcase by the dresser. Isak hesitates, biting his lip, unsure.

“How long ‘til we start moving? I wanna watch from the deck,” Isak has never been on a boat before.

He just hopes he doesn’t get seasick or something equally as embarrassing.

“Maybe twenty minutes or so? I’m not really sure.”

“Do you want to go up and wait? If you don’t, I could go by myself…”

“Of course I’ll go with you!” Even grins, standing up and wrapping an arm over Isak’s shoulders. “We’ll watch and wait together.”

Isak smiles and shifts closer to Even, cold from the air conditioning, and wraps his arm around Even’s waist. He feels safe here, for once, in the embrace of someone he truly cares about. It’s been years since Isak has been this close with a person, with someone he wants to maybe one day marry. Hopefully Even just feels the same way.

-

The ship has a deck with a clear floor so you can see the people on the floors beneath you and then, below that, the ocean. They walk over it on their way to the edge, still holding onto each other, quiet as can be.

The boat is rumbling a little under Isak’s feet, a vibration that would be unnoticeable if he wasn’t looking for it, as he grips the railing. The sun is hot on the back of his neck and Even’s arm is firm around his shoulders. The shore line looks faraway and right in front of him at the same time. Even is the most gorgeous thing for miles, though, even as the saltwater sparkles underneath the burning sun.

“Almost ready,” Even muses because he knows more about boats and stuff. “I’m excited.”

“Me, too,” Isak looks up at Even and gasps. “Even!”

“What?” He’s concerned immediately.

“Your number,” Isak whispers and he’s so shocked, so agonized, over the truth that he pauses, mouth half-open. “Your number dropped...to eight.”

Even’s arm falls from Isak’s shoulders and he steps back, looking up to catch a glimpse. And there it is, like an unwanted beacon, a bright green number 8.

“Oh, no,” Even whispers like he can’t believe it. “What did I do? What happened differently that didn’t happen before?”

Isak tries to remember, he really does, but he can’t think of anything. Nothing except that Even is now one more thing closer to dying.

“I’m so stupid!” He whispers and presses his palms into his eye sockets. _“Fy faen.”_

Isak starts at the foreign words slipping from Even’s mouth because he recognizes them as curse words. He’d looked into it one night while teasing Even about his clean vocabulary.

“Calm down,” Isak says firmly, stepping in front of him.

He’s panicking, Isak realizes, and there’s nothing he can do. Not a damn thing. So he grabs Even’s hands and squeezes. He squeezes until Even looks at him, until Even’s focus is all on him.

“Hey,” he says softly, whispering, eyes gentle, afraid for his own very selfish reasons, “it’s gonna be okay. It may not be right now. It may not be for a while, but it will be okay. And I’ll be here, even when it’s not, no matter what, because there’s nothing you could do to get rid of me, Even. Nothing.”

“Are you sure about that?” Even says after a while and Isak can feel the railing against his back as Even leans closer. “That there’s nothing I can do?”

“Um…” Isak purses his lips and then grins. “Yeah. 100%.”

“Okay, then,” Even nods to himself. “I guess I’ll just have to keep trying.”

“I guess you will.”

Isak looks up at Even, at his beautiful, flawless, smart-ass face, and sighs gently. He is just so beautiful and Isak just...he just _wants._ He wants everything Even has to give. He wants Even.

He wants his mouth on his, his hands on his body, his tongue, his teeth. He wants it all.

And he can’t have it. Not yet.

It isn’t even his to begin with.

“You’re beautiful,” Isak whispers because he is.

He is the most beautiful thing on this planet. He is unearthly and he shines like no one else. He is the sun. Bright, alive, and nearly immortal.

“Me?” He scoffs and his hands are still in Isak’s, still clutched between them. “You’re the beautiful one.”

Isak’s smirk is noticeable and shameless.

“If we’re both so beautiful,” he whispers, “maybe we deserve to be together?”

“You think?”

“I do.”

Even’s smile is teasing and Isak can’t help himself. He truly can’t. The gears of the world are turning and he falls victim to their power.

He leans up, on his toes, and kisses him. He does it quickly, unsurely, because it’s been so long. Since Jonas. Since graduation day. Even laughs when Isak pulls away and drops his hands to wrap him in a tight hug. Isak feels so much better already and he can’t wait for what’s to come.

Even pulls back and kisses Isak once, just like Isak had done to him, to be even. Isak wraps his arms around Even’s neck and draws him back in, kissing him deeper, longer. He’s so lucky to be here with this God-like creature, on this expensive ass boat, that he feels like he should be shining with it.

“We should go swimming later,” Isak says after a second. “I love swimming.”

“Whatever you want,” Even says, looking down at him fondly, “we will do, _min elskede.” ~~(my love)~~ _

“Good, because I have _lots_ of ideas.”

-

The pool waits all night for them.

Dinner is luxurious and Isak spends an embarrassing amount of time just moaning over it. He does it, at first, with no mal-intent, but catches the look on Even’s face and does it even more, just for funsies.

Dessert is even better, and Isak practically bathes in the chocolate ice cream. Even seems too intent on watching to thoroughly enjoy his.

Or perhaps he doesn’t like it. Who knows.

“This place is so lux,” Isak says gently. “How aren’t you some entitled rich kid when you grew up living like this?”

“I was for a long time,” he admits, over the last of the dessert and champagne. “Then my parents died. And then we got our numbers. I realized…that nothing in life is a guarantee but death. I only have me now; I don't have my mom to bail me out of jail or my dad to come fix my car when I hit something. I had to grow up and I had to do it fast because I didn't have much time left...and now I have even less.”

“Oh,” Isak says softly, his brows furrowed. “Even—”

“And while I miss my parents with every cell in my body, I'm glad things turned out this way. If my mom and dad hadn't died, I might have never left Norway, never left Europe. Might never have grown out of my shitty, Norwegian frat-boy image, though we don't have frats. Never landed in sweltering Virginia where I saw the most gorgeous boy I'd ever seen trying to break into a shitty Dodge Neon.”

Isak grins, beside himself, and reaches over the dishes in front of him to grab Even's hands. They share a quiet look, something that fills Isak's chest with happiness, and laugh a little.

“Cheesy,” Isak says because it was.

It was also sweet and true and perhaps even a little heartbreaking.

-

By the time they make it to the pool, it's mostly empty. There's a couple sitting in the deep end splashing one another and a teenager lounging on one of the chairs. The sun is low in the sky and dusk is almost upon them, so, of course, Even looks beautiful in this light.

They set their towels and shoes down at two chairs on the opposite side of the pool as the teenager and pause.

Isak touches the water with his toe, afraid it's cold, but Even has other ideas.

While Isak isn't paying attention, he turns and shines him into the pool while still wearing his shirt!

The water is cool, but thankfully refreshing. Even is grinning at Isak from dry ground and Isak is grinning at Even and it's such a perfect moment that Isak wishes he could record videos from his eyes. Or that his phone was waterproof. Either or. Just so he could remember and rewatch this moment, this image, of golden skin and blue eyes and orange sun forever. Until his number reached 0 and he fell in oblivion. Until he stopped existing.

Isak looks up as Even finally jumps in, still dressed himself to make it fair, and stops breathing. Somehow, Even's number had fallen again.

This time to 7.

Isak decides, however, not to tell him. Not yet.

It's for a completely selfish reason, but he can't think of a reason not to. Not when Even is teasing him with his smart mouth and the couple decides to leave, taking their kid with them, leaving Even and Isak alone. Alone in a pool with dim lights and the warm glowing sun.

“Wanna race?” Even asks, already swimming to the shallow end to prepare. “I'd bet $1000 I'll win!”

“I don't have $1000 to bet,” Isak grumbles. “So…”

He'll win anyway because he is an absolutely wonderful swimmer, but he doesn't like to bet things he doesn't have. Just in case he drowns or something.

“Fine. I’d bet...a kiss...that you'll lose!”

This is a win-win situation, so Isak easily accepts. Smiles and steps in line with Even.

The pool is relatively large, going from 4 feet to 15, so Isak takes a deep breath and kicks off when Even shouts, “Go!”.

He tries as hard as he can, really, but Even is tall and his muscles are apparently made for gliding through the water. He makes it there with 30 seconds to spare before Isak even taps the wall.

“Loser!” Even laughs, holding on with his left hand to stay afloat.

“I just...I got water in my mouth! Choked on it. I _demand_ a rematch!”

Even looks at him like he knows he's lying, but agrees nonetheless. Isak immediately regrets his protests as he knows he won't win. He's not a great swimmer, actually, and Even fucking knows.

“Ready? And...Go!”

Isak swims toward the shallow end, trying a new stroke, and manages to tap in only a second after Even.

“Fuck,” he groans, covering his face. “You cheated!”

“Me? A cheater? How dare you!”

“You started before go!”

Isak is grasping at straws and they both know it. It's hilarious, at least, and entertaining.

“You,” Even says, grinning, standing in the waist-high water, “are a terrible liar, _kjære._ Do you know what I think?”

Isak gets distracted by the water droplets on his skin and nods, watching, biting his lip. Thanks about licking them off.

_"Det er oss to.” ~~(It's me and you)~~ _

“What does that mean?” Isak asks, stepping closer so he has to look up into his eyes.

Even has this look in his eyes that makes Isak grin. He looks almost mischievous, almost teasing. How odd.

“Oh! It’s a...Norwegian proverb. It...uh...means, “You lie like a man with one million...tells”, because you do.”

Isak rolls his eyes, fond, and smiles. He happens to be a great liar, no matter what Even or his proverbs think.

“So how do you want your prize?” Isak steps closer again, so close he can feel how warm Even’s skin is. “Do you want it like this?”

He leans in and kisses him once, gently, on his neck. Then again, on his collarbone.

“Or like this?” and he kisses his jaw, mouths at his skin.

Even’s chest is rising and falling rapidly now and his hands reach for Isak instinctively; Isak smiles.

“Or how about like this?” He leans down and, cautiously, kisses his chest over his shirt. Down his stomach. Over his bellybutton. “This?”

He kneels and looks up at Even, who is looking right down at him. Isak blinks slowly, gently, and Even smiles.

“Like this,” Even says, guiding Isak back up to press their lips together. “Just like this.”

So Isak does as he promised. He gives Even all his kisses and Even gives him his back in return.

Isak's already sort of hard, dressed still in his soaking wet shirt and bathing suit, but Even is fully there as their hands roam.

“Isak?” He asks, breathlessly, and Isak agrees.

“Let's go.”

-

They stop to kiss for minutes and seconds in the hallways on their way back to their room. Even's like putty in Isak's hands, gentle and soft and relaxed.

Isak quite enjoys this, enjoys holding Even, enjoys whispering filthy things into his ear as they press each other against vacant hallway walls and forget everything but each other. Forget how to do anything but _feel._

“You're so beautiful,” he says when they enter the elevator. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I don't know,” Even presses him against the wall, “but I don't know how I did either.”

With a door between them and the rest of the world, Isak reaches down and gently traces the outline of Even’s dick in his shorts. Barely there.

He shivers under Isak's touch, mouth open, breath hot, against Isak’s temple.

“Oh, my God,” he says and Isak agrees.

He looks fucking radiant like this. Isak wishes for camera eyes again.

“Isak—”

“Did we press the button?”

Isak turns his head and laughs. They hadn't even pressed their floor!

He reaches out, momentarily removing himself from Even's shorts, and presses it. Then he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss against Even's lips, and shoves his hand gracelessly down his bathing suit.

He ruts against Isak and moans, eyes shut, head back. Christ, who looks this beautiful all the time? What kind of superior being is Even and why does Isak get to be the one to love him?

The elevator door dings and Isak kisses him once more before heading off into the hallway, his dick so hard he can barely walk.

Their room is two doors down, so they get there quickly with only one more stop to kiss against a fire extinguisher.

There's a different mood when they open their door. The atmosphere changes. Isak can tell Even gets nervous because he himself does, too. He never fails to.

“Yours or mine?” Even asks, laughing.

Isak grins and pushes him down onto his bed, knocking a shoe to the floor. The bed is lush and soft and they both sink into it.

“Take off your shorts,” Isak says, smiling, “and your shirt.”

“Can I tell you something?” Even says with wide, innocent eyes. “I've never…”

“With a guy?”

“With...anyone.”

“You're a virgin?”

“I’ve done...stuff...just not like _—sex,_ sex .”

“Oh, okay.”

Isak smiles because that's fine. It is. At least he can't make too much of a fool out of himself.

“So...slow, then?” He asks, still looking down at Even gently.

“Sure.”

Isak helps Even rid himself of his damp clothes and Isak takes his off afterward. There's something very real and very calm about this moment, about this position. Isak sort of feels like this is where he belongs. Like he could spend eternity like this.

“I'm going to kiss you again,” Isak says and so he does.

He kisses him again and then he pulls back, slides down his body, looks him in the eyes, and opens his mouth.

He gently licks the head of Even's cock, which causes him to gasp and writhe on the bed, looking like an angel, so he takes him into his mouth. He tastes like pool water and salt and it's so good. It's so _good._

Even tangles his fingers in Isak's hair and tosses his head back in ecstasy. Isak can't believe he's getting to witness someone so beautiful.

It's like a gift from God herself.

-

Isak tells Even about the number drop when they wake the next morning. He holds him tightly as he trembles, just for a little while, and whispers that everything is going to be fine. That he is going to be fine. Isak’s at just under 4k himself, but the difference is staggering because Isak is losing 50 or so a day. Maybe more. He’s not terribly good with math.

Even and Isak spend the day on deck once Even feels okay enough to do so. They play ping pong with the sun overhead and then challenge each other to a game of air hockey (which Isak wins). It’s perfect. The whole fucking thing. Isak wouldn’t change a thing except the green numbers floating up above them.

-

The days are brighter with Even than the days before. Isak isn't sure what it was about the days before him that made them dull, but now he's basking in Even's light like he's the sun and Isak is the earth. He is the most joyous person on the planet. He is so forgiving and so full of goddamn hope and he's so mind-blowingly brilliant and he's only got 7 whatevers left.

Isak kisses him in counts of seven, not as a reminder, but as a new hope. A hope that seven means seven decades. That Even will live forever. That Isak will, too.

The WHO still has no fucking clue what it is and neither does the CDC. There's as many theories as there are people on earth and that's saying something.

Isak's down to 3990 which is sad and also fucking ridiculous. How many has he even fucking gone through in the five days he's been on the boat? For God's sake.

Jonas sends Isak regular updates about Prometheus which is wonderful and exciting and fucking adorable. Prometheus looks well taken care of and Isak trusts Jonas with every fiber of his being to be a good caretaker.

Isak and Even have pushed their beds together to create one, large mattress. They spend most nights curled together, skin aching from sunburn, eyes heavy from exhaustion.

On the sixth day, the cruise stops near a little island and anchors so vacationers can go scuba diving and stuff from the side. Isak and Even spend the day under a brilliantly hot sun somewhere off the Florida coast, looking at cool fish and splashing each other with warm, clear water.

The seventh day, Isak prepares a package he’d brought with him an hour before Even wakes up. The ship has this aura that makes it feel timeless, like this is his life and he’ll never ever have to return to the hospital or his shitty flat, but it isn’t, because Christmas is here and then New Year’s day is just a week away, and then they’ll be back in Virginia and nothing will ever be like it is now.

He wrapped it in brown paper before he left, so now he ties it with a simple red ribbon for some pizzazz. He waits until the sun is over the horizon to lean over him and whisper into his ear.

“Even,” he says, lips touching his ear, “wake up.”

“Mmm,” he says in reply, eyes opening halfheartedly. “I’ve been up for a while.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re loud and I happen to be a light sleeper.”

 _“‘Light’?!”_ Isak’s mouth is hanging wide open.

Even is the heaviest sleeper Isak knows. He sleeps through announcements and horns and alarms. Isak wonders how he ever wakes up for anything if he sleeps through seventeen wake-up calls every morning.

“Yes. Light.”

“Jesus Christ,” Isak rolls his eyes. “Guess what today is?”

“Uh...I don't know...Christmas?”

“Yes, you big dummy! Merry Christmas!”

Isak shoves the box in front of Even's cute face and grins when Even jumps up. He clutches the brown box and smiles so wide it probably hurts.

“You shouldn't have!” He says firmly. “My gift was you coming here and keeping me company!”

“What? Are you kidding?” Isak scoffs. “My gift was getting to come here and spend time with you and...you know...all the fun stuff we’ve done that I haven’t paid a cent for. So I just thought...you deserved a gift in return, even if it in no way can compensate you for the price of this holiday.”

Isak looks at Even, at his long, pale eyelashes, and his thin nose, at the curve of his smile, and leans in to kiss him just barely. It’s hardly a kiss at all, but Isak feels it in his bones nonetheless. Even is so beautiful and so kind and so generous that it’s a wonder he’s been single for so long. He's so wonderfully intelligent and achingly snarky and Isak might sort of be almost in love with him.

First scary thought of the day.

“Well,” Even says with his brilliant eyes and his dangerous smile, “it’s a good thing I got you something, too!”

“No!” Isak protests, ready waving his hands. “I can't accept anything else from you!”

“Calm down.”

“No! You have given me so much and I can't give you anything but my company and this package in return. I'm not sure what you even get out of this...uh _...thing_ that we're doing.”

They aren't just friends anymore. Friends don't do the things they have done and don't act the way they have acted. Well, sometimes they do, but Isak doesn't want to be just friends anymore.

“‘Thing’?” Even grins. “Cute. But be quiet. Zip your mouth or whatever you Americans say. Let me go get it.”

He jumps up out of bed, somehow wearing Isak's shirt and looking better than Isak ever has in it, and runs to the closet where he retrieves a forest green box with a gold bow. Isak, despite himself, is smiling as he skips his way over to the bed and catapults himself onto it.

“You're cute.”

“You're cuter. And also you give me just as much as I give you. I have been alone most of my life and to find someone who puts up with my crazy, rambling speeches and my weird movie taste had felt impossible. After the numbers started, after I saw the 9 above my head, I thought: ‘this is it. I am going to be alone forever.’”

Isak's not smiling anymore. He's looking at this beautiful and intelligent man in front of him and all he wants to do is hug him. Assure him he will never be alone again.

“Then I saw you. Blond and fierce and braver than anyone I had ever met. You were sweaty and you smelled bad and you had your blood dripping down your arm, but you were, in that moment, with tiny Prometheus clutched to your chest, the most beautiful person I had ever seen. You still are.

“I thought to myself then, ‘I can’t let him walk away without getting his number. I need to know this boy.’ and so I did. And so I do.”

Isak's smile is a fragile and delicate thing as he grips Even's hand with his own and almost very nearly tears up. It's the sweetest, purest thing anyone has ever said to him.

“Here,” Even passes him the brown box. “Let's open them together.”

Isak takes the box, smiles, and opens it. He's never been one to give a shit about the paper, so he tears into it carelessly.

“Oh, my God,” Isak says softly. “Is this…?”

“It is.”

Isak clutches the t-shirt to his chest and grins. He shuts his eyes and inhales deeply from the fabric, even though he doesn't know why and it just smells like Tide anyway.

His mother used to own a shirt like this, used to smell like Pine Sol and Marc Jacob's Daisy. He can see her now, young again, alive again, teaching Isak how to build his Legos super tall and so strong. He can see her giving the shirt to him when she couldn't wear it anymore, when she was an extra extra small and the shirt was a medium. Can see Isak ruining it by washing it with his whites and bleaching it six months later. Isak had looked at it for too long and Even had remembered.

Isak wants to cry.

“Oh my god.”

Isak throws his arms around Even and holds him tight. He's just so happy to have someone who knows him so thoroughly, so completely, that it fills him with joy and sadness and pain.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Even grins and Isak lets him get back to his gift.

Isak bought Even something that took not a lot of thought, but a lot of effort. Who knew heart-shaped sunglasses with rose gold lenses would be so rare? Who knew it would be so hard to have them shipped to the US?

Even opens them and then, he starts to cry. He's smiling, though, as tears fill his eyes and his hands start to shake. Isak doesn't know what else to do other than to reach out for his hands and hold then firmly.

“Thank you so much,” Even says. “I never thought I'd see them again. Where did you find these?”

“Online. Had to do a little digging. I remembered the logo vaguely and so I just had to figure out how to read enough Norwegian to have them shipped here."

“Thank you so much for everything. For being here with me, for being my friend, for being so kind. For the glasses and your presence and your smiles.”

“It's my pleasure,” Isak says softly. “Literally. I wouldn't rather be anywhere else other than right here with you.”

-

Isak heads to the deck and lays in the sun, coated heavily in sunscreen, as Even heads off for a massage. This is their last day on the boat for a while as they dock near Miami overnight, so Isak wants to spend it casually.

And so he does.

Even joins him after noon and they eat lunch under the sun and drink too much champagne for the middle of the day. They talk about missing their beds and their showers and Isak tells Even that he’s surprised he misses Virginia so much, especially considering how awesome it is here. But he misses working and he really misses Prometheus.

And then, because Isak feels sort of sad, they FaceTime with Jonas and Prometheus. They both look good and Jonas tells them that Prometheus and Jinx, his cat, are best friends. They lay together and eat together and Jinx wants so badly to go with them when Jonas takes Prometheus for a walk that Jonas even bought him a leash. It’s all so cute and Isak is so glad he’s doing well.

After that, they take a swim in the pool until it’s time for dinner. They eat and talk and laugh. Then they stumble back up into their room and Isak tells Even a sad story when they’re both in bed, warmed by each other and their sunburns.

“My mom,” Isak says, “was very sick for a very long time. She had...this thing. A degenerative neurological condition. You’ve probably heard of it….Parkinson’s?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, basically, it starts off small. Tremors and cramps and achy bones. Then it progressively gets worse over, like, a decade or two. Loss of motor skills. Shaking. Soon you can’t walk. Then you need help doing everything. Then you die.”

“Oh, my God, Isak,” Even says and kisses his temple. “How old was she?”

“Fifty-five. She ignored her symptoms for as long as she could, I think. Didn’t see a doctor until years after her hands shook, her back hurt. Maybe they could’ve done more for her...if she’d seen a doctor...but she hated them. I had to put her in a facility because I couldn’t care for her and my shithead dad left as soon as he noticed he could get away with it. I visited her as much as I could and I read to her when her hands couldn’t turn the pages, couldn’t hold the books, anymore. I was with her when her number hit 0. She was the first to die, you know. First to hit 0. She seized and she suffered and she shook.

It was fucking awful. I wish I could erase seeing her like that from my brain, but it’s seared in there...because one day that might be me. One day I might be so helpless, so tortured by my own genetics, that I’ll die like that.”

 _“Is_ it genetic?”

“Sometimes, but not always.”

“Have you been tested?”

“There really isn’t an accurate way to test it. It’s more like being monitored...and I don’t wanna live the best parts of my life like that. Not if I’m not even sure if I’ll get it.”

Even squeezes Isak a little tighter and he feels perhaps a bit better, which is enough. Isak feels so content that he starts to doze off.

He's exhausted from the sun and the swimming and he feels so safe. His eyes shut. His body goes slack.

He can feel Even's breath and the rising and falling of his chest. Everything feels so right.

He starts to slip away just as he hears something. Hears words matched in a pleasant rhythm

_“I've been watching you walk. I've been learning the way that you talk. The back of your head is at the front of my mind...soon I'll crack it open just to see what's inside.”_

It's Even, singing so softly that it's like he's speaking a poem instead of a song and maybe that's what it actually is. He fights sleep just to listen a little longer, just to hold onto the gentle words and his soft, delicate voice.

 _“Maybe I will wait until you're fast asleep...dreaming things I have the right to see. Maybe you are dreaming you're in love with me,”_ he pauses, presses a feather-light kiss to Isak’s temple that lingers against his skin. _“The only option left is look and see...inside your mind.”_

Isak's never heard this before, doesn't recognize the rhythm or words. He wonders who it is and hopes he can remember a bit of it to look tomorrow; he's just too tired now to do anything but listen.

 _"I can show you the photographs of you getting on with life. I've had dreams where there's blood on you. All those dreams where you're my_ life. _Inside your mind.”_

Isak lets go. Even is in love with him just like Isak is in love with him. The joy and happiness melt into content and he falls asleep between one second and the next with Even’s voice still playing inside his mind.

-

Isak wakes up to an announcement from the captain: they are free to go!

Isak and Even have a whole week on the sandy, humid beaches of Florida! Isak plans on spending them eating and swimming and watching Even sunbathe in his cute heart-shaped sunglasses.

They arrive at their hotel with the other guests and Isak shakes his head because the fucking grandeur of the place is beyond excessive. Gold engraving on the floor? Totally unnecessary.

Their room is gorgeous, too, but they're only there long enough to change into bathing suits and head down to the sand.

Upon arrival, Isak coats himself liberally in sunscreen because he knows how much he can burn if he isn't careful. He has a little bit of a tan still, from the summer, but nothing can save his skin from UV rays except some sunscreen.

Even takes some and puts it lightly on his shoulders and face and heads off into the sea, wearing little yellow swim trunks and nothing else. He leaves his sunglasses on their blanket with Isak's sunscreen bottle for safe keeping.

The sun is bright, even if the day is a little cool. 75° feels lavish here where it felt suffocating in Virginia. Isak stretches out on the blanket and shuts his eyes, basking in the sun and the warmth and the sand. He is so grateful to be here that he jumps up and runs out toward the water just to scare the shit out of Even by leaping at him.

“Hi,” Even laughs, “what're you doing?”

“Joining you,” Isak grins. “Also I'm thanking you again for this wonderful and expensive and truly fantastic vacation. I'm so glad you invited me and I'm so grateful to be here with you.”

“I'm glad you're having a good time.”

“I'm having a _great_ time.”

“Good,” Even lets their noses touch once, as gentle as a feather, and then he grins mischievously before splashing Isak with the warm water.

“You _didn't!”_ Isak gapes, momentarily shocked.

He recovers and splashes Even back, which is the beginning of a long and wet war.

-

The food is more delicious than Isak has words for. All he can do is shovel it into his mouth and say _“ohmygod”_ over and over.

Even thinks it's hilarious and he says he enjoys the food, too, but he doesn't eat like Isak does. Is probably so used to the excellence that it doesn't even phase him anymore.

-

The days are short and hot and full of kisses and touches and swimming. Isak loses track of the time and, before he knows it, Even’s telling him he should pack for their flight in the morning.

Isak gasps and sits down, “We leave tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he says sadly, joining him on the bed. “Flight's at noon.”

“Shit,” Isak mumbles and sighs.

He supposes it had to end eventually, but he thought they had more time on the sand, under the sun, in the water. More time before Isak had to return to work and Even had to return to his worries.

“I've got something special planned for tonight, though.”

“Yeah?” Isak grins. “What is it?”

“You'll have to wait and see.”

-

Isak ends up in his bathing suit in a giant clear ball on the water. Even is in an identical one two meters away, laughing so hard he falls to his knees.

They're sort of like mouse balls, Isak supposes, but they float on the water and you can run in them. It's pretty cool, except Even doesn't play fair. He runs his ball into Isak's, throwing his unskilled body around and around and around in the ball.

It disorients him, yes, and it does annoy, but it's also harmless. Like landing on a beach ball the size of a car.

“You asshole!” Isak gasps and charges at Even, only to miss and go flying past him, out into the sea. He turns back, irritated at how much of an advantage Even has because he's done this before, and tries again.

This is so much fun that Isak doesn't remember what it was like to be bored.

Once Isak finally— _finally!_ —hits Even back, they climb out and walk toward dinner, where they laugh and eat and drink a bit of wine. [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/162574450@N02/47278403741/in/photostream/)

Isak's not really a fan of wine—in fact, it tastes like complete shit to him and he's sure it's just another one of those things that rich people pretend to like to be fancy—but he has enough that he's loud and unapologetic and feeling light as air. Half a glass.

Even drinks three times as much as Isak, but looks instead like he sinks down into the earth as Isak flies. It's so weird, the contrast between them, that Isak laughs and laughs and laughs.

“I'm gonna miss this place,” Isak whispers when they're pressed against each other in their bed later that night. “I'm gonna miss being under the sun with you."

“Me, too,” Even whispers and Isak can just barely make out the shine of his eyes and the shape of his lips in the darkness. “I'm gonna miss this so much.”

And then he fits his mouth to Isak's, tasting of mouthwash and smelling of salt water and sand and soap. Isak's hands wind in his hair and Even's hand grip his waist as they kiss, their lips parting soon. There's so much about Even that Isak likes and this is just another on an infinite list.

“Thank you for bringing me,” Isak whispers, pressing his words into Even's skin. “Let me show you how grateful I am.”

“Okay, then,” Even whispers gently, eyes half-shut. “Show me.”

The only light in the room is the ghastly green hue from their numbers, floating up above their heads, 7 and 3002, but he can make out the rest of what he can't see with his hands.

Isak twists his fingers around Even’s shoulders and slides them down over his chest, his stomach, his hips. He follows them with his mouth, pressing his lips against Even's cool skin, his tongue poking out to trace around one of his nipples. He can feel Even’s dick against his collarbones, can feel how fast his heart is beating. He grins.

“Can I take these off?”

“My shorts?” Even's voice is uneven. “Yes.”

Isak, looking to from beneath his lashes briefly, does. He grabs the hem and pulls them along Even’s long, tan legs all the way down to his ankles and over his feet. He kisses his way back up to Even's mouth and the wait to kiss his lips is forever and half a second at the same time. There's something about the shape of his nose, something so cute and adorable, that Isak skips his mouth all together and kisses his face.

Even laughs gently beneath him, warm and soft and happy, and Isak grins.

This is all he's ever wanted and more.

Even leans up and kisses Isak in between one breath and the next. There's a second where Isak wants to tell him. Wants to whisper to him how in love with him he is. Wants to ask if he feels the same and cry if he does. But he doesn't because he's afraid. He just moans a little, breathes hard, grinds down a bit.

“Isak,” Even whispers quickly, “please.”

Isak kisses him for a bit more and then pulls back suddenly, Even's hands dropping from his hair. He scoots down, puts both knees on opposite sides of Even's legs.

He tentatively touches him, soft, calloused fingers tracing the seams of Even's underwear. Then he draws them down toward his knees and takes him into his mouth.

Even gasps and his eyes shut. Isak almost smiles, but instead focuses on a rhythm. Focuses on making Even as happy as he can.

“Isak,” he whispers and his hands are grasping the sheets in tight fists. “Oh, my God. Isak.”

Isak’s dick is hard and it only gets worse as Even cries out, not dating to even try to be quiet. He looks so beautiful, so ethereal and endless and infinite, that Isak could watch him like this forever. Even should be in a renaissance painting in the Louvre or the MET or something. He should be a protected art piece like The Jewish Bride or The Honeysuckle Bower.

Isak tastes all of him, feels all of him, and knows he won't last the night with this secret in his head. He's a goner for Even.

Even pulls Isak’s hair a little harshly, drawing him back, and Isak just keeps going. This is the man he loves and he wants his mouth to be on him for as long as fucking possible.

“Isak,” Even whispers once more and then he comes and it's like watching an angel.

Isak grinds down on Even's leg in a desperate attempt for some friction, his mouth still on Even's dick, and groans.

 _“Åh gud,”_ Even whispers and Isak cries out because the sounds are so sensual, so beautiful, that it doesn't matter what they mean. “Isak.”

Isak grinds down again, unable to help himself, as Even recovers beautifully above him.

“Say my name again,” Isak whispers. “Please.”

Even whispers it again, half grinning, breathing still a little elevated. His hand slides down Isak's body, over his waist and his stomach and his hips and down between their bodies as he sits up and kisses Isak.

 _“Du er vakker,”_ Even whispers and he wraps his hand around Isak's dick. ~~_(You're beautiful)_ ~~

His fingers are firm and warm and he does everything Isak could ever want him to do. He mouths at his neck, whispers words in a language Isak doesn't understand, as Isak comes, squeezing his hands against Even's soft skin.

 _“Jeg elsker deg,”_ Even whispers finally when Isak lays down beside him. _“Jeg skulle ønske du kunne forstå meg.” ~~(I love you. I wish you could understand me)~~ _

Isak doesn't actually know what the words mean, but he has a general idea. He can feel the way Even feels in his chest because he feels it, too. The feeling consumes them both in the same way.

“I love you, too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make sure to read part two if you want! It's a little darker and has some additional warnings that are added in the note at the beginning. 
> 
> thanks for reading :) 
> 
> P.S. I only speak French and English, so anything in any other language is my best approximation. Corrections are appreciated if anything's wrong :)


	2. end stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remission: n. a diminution of the seriousness or intensity of disease or pain; a temporary recovery.
> 
>  
> 
> end stage: adj. denoting, relating to, or occurring in the final phase of a terminal illness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps if you want a happier ending, you should stop here lol   
> i hope you enjoy and maybe cry? just a little???? (i did)

Isak is twenty nine. He is 29 when Even proposes by the water in Sandbridge Beach. The day is hot and Isak's sort of grumpy, which he always is, because his back and neck are sore. He doesn't know if he slept weird or something, but it aches like high tide washing over his feet.

Even somehow manages to smile in spite of Isak's attitude and overall malaise, and they hold each other under the sun until their skin is pink and the water is high. They kiss in the waves and take photos of the sunset and then Even gets down on his knee and proposes.

It's so picturesque that Isak forgets his aching neck and throws his arms around him, knocking them both into the surf. They laugh as salt water laps over their bodies and pulls at them. A crab scurries over Isak's toes.

It's the best moment of Isak's life.

-

They have a simple ceremony at the courthouse as soon as they possibly can. Jonas and Even's friend, Mikael, are their witnesses and they kiss under the watch of a prejudiced old guy with no eyebrows. It's fucking awesome.

Isak and Even spend their honeymoon in a cabin in Maine, cradled in each other's arms, sand in their hair, at peace after so much turmoil. Isak's so relaxed the pain in his neck fades away to nothing and he figures it's probably just stress-related. Still, he lets Even massage the muscles with his firm hands until he's so calm he could fall asleep right in the sand.

They do nothing but laugh and swim and sunbathe for a week and a half. Spend hours on the beach getting covered in sand just to go inside and rinse it all off again. Isak teaches Even lots of new things, lets him try a few, and they fall in love all over again, day after day after day.

-

Isak is 32 and he and Even are great. Both of their numbers have dwindled down more, as have everyone else's, and there still is no news on what it may be. No theories. Nothing.

Everyone's sort of gotten used to it. No one bats an eye at low or high numbers, or people dropping dead at 0. It's ludicrous, but that's life now.

Virginia is still humid and sweaty and Isak’s job still sort of sucks, but at least he has Even and Even has him. Oh, and they both have Prometheus, of course.

He's an old man now, grey around the muzzle, and a little wobbly on his feet. He's still as cute as ever, though, and he even has a sister now, a pitbull named Muse, from the Muses in Greek Mythology.

They found her two winters ago, curled up on the edge of a pond in Staunton, nearly frozen to death. Somehow, Even and Isak had managed to save her too and they’ve been family since.

Their home is covered in fur and toys, but it is the best and only life Isak could have ever dreamed of. It’s so perfect that he gets used to it. He wakes every morning knowing there will be at least three people excited to see him, to be with him, to love him. He goes to bed wrapped in the arms of the guy of his dreams, two heavy dogs lying at the foot of his bed, so loved he shines with it.

It's so perfect and it has been for so long that Isak doesn't even anticipate the inevitable fall.

He doesn't even see it coming.

He's signing paperwork at the clinic when it happens. When his world comes to a screeching halt.

His hand feels weird. The pen slips. Ink scratches a thin, horizontal line where his name should've gone.

_ Oh, no, _  he thinks.  _ Oh no oh no oh no. _

-

It only gets worse from there.

He sort of pretends that he doesn't notice the symptoms as they appear because the truth is too painful, too terrifying. He chalks up the aches and the tremors and the slowness to getting old and tries not to worry about it, which is sort of impossible for him. Even notices how odd he's acting and asks, but doesn't pry because he's Even and he _never_ pries.

It's years before he even admits to himself that it may actually be a problem and at that point he's already up shit's creek.

Isak understands now why his mom hadn't seen a doctor because he doesn't and he actually  _ knows _  what it is and what it's doing to him without treatment. He knows what's causing his coordination to slowly go to shit. He knows what causes the shaking of his fingers.

It's been over ten years since Isak’s mom died and they still don't have a cure for it or even an effective treatment plan. He knows they'll set him up with doses of drugs at weird hours and he knows Even will dote, as he always does, and doesn't want that.

Not when his number is just 479. Not when Even's is 3.

So Isak grits his teeth and bears the weird voice changes, the botox-like stiffness of his face, the new way he had to learn how to walk.

He falls more times than he'd ever admit and has begun to feel like he might need a cane. Thankfully, Even is never around for these accidents, so Isak needn't explain.

He's losing all he is so fast and yet so slowly. How can time feel like forever and a second at the same time?

Isak spends an entire night up just a few weeks after his 40th birthday, terrified of his own hands, watching Even sleep. Watching him breathe slowly up and down, looking almost as young as he did years ago when they first met.

He starts to cry, desperate for a reprieve from this pain inside of him. This pain because of his body, his dopamine, his brain. He can't let Even see him like this, can't force him to help him die through this. This is going to be the hardest thing Isak has ever done because he is so happy and so devastated at the same time.

“I love you,” Isak admits quietly and he sobs. “I love you so fucking much it hurts and that's why I have to do this.”

He cries as he watches the sun rise and his dogs slowly wake. He stops crying long enough for Even to open his eyes and kiss him once, close mouthed. Then he blinks his beautiful, intuitive eyes at Isak and frowns.

“What's wrong?”

“I...I...I…We have to...to break up.” And then he's crying again.

He's sobbing so loud he's not sure Even can understand him and he's certainly making no sense anyway. Even just brushes his hair back with his fingers and lets him cry. Lets him be swallowed up by the aching inside of him.

“I know,” Even whispers so sharply it shocks Isak into listening. “I know you have it, Isak.”

“What? How c-could you…?”

“Because I Googled it. Because I love you and because I have fucking eyes.”

“Then you understand,” Isak mumbles. “You can’t see me like that. I barely want you seeing me like  _ this.” _

His face is strange to him in the mirror, so hard, so stiff, like he's frozen in ice. His back is hunched. His feet drag and shuffle when he walks. His voice is only a mutation of his old one.

Isak is no longer Isak anymore. He's letting this disease take him away and leave behind a decaying shell of what he once was.

“What I see is the man I love fighting for everything we've built for ourselves. What I see is my husband pretending his handwriting was  _ always _  that terrible and lying to protect me while he's fighting a disease so awful he can't even being himself to see a doctor.”

He cups Isak’s cheek and smiles a little and Isak realizes Even has tears in his eyes, too.

“You've stood by me all these years when my numbers could've run out any second and now I'll stand by you until we both drop.”

Isak shuts his eyes and Even presses their foreheads together. It's a promise, sort of.

“So don't be stupid and think I'd ever let you break up with me, and get out of bed. You're gonna be late.”

-

Isak sees a doctor who does, in fact, put him on a strict regimen of sleep, exercise, and pills, but also gives him a great gift: a medical marijuana card.

He says there's been some hope for PD patients who smoke pot because cannabinoids supposedly bind to dopamine receptors and protect them. Isak's not sure he believes in that sort of fringe science, but he's not about to turn away a chance at free weed, so he agrees.

The pot does help a lot, actually, but it's mostly with pain and his general mood.

He's become what he once was again, though, which is a little disappointing. Once a stoner, always a stoner, he supposes, but it doesn't make him feel much better.

Even smokes with him sometimes which is sort of against the law because it  _ is _  a prescription, but only barely. Recreational pot has been legal for ages, but they'd sort of given up on it in their old age. Now it's the only thing that makes Isak's skin not burn. Even kisses have a similar effect to the weed, but it's the combination of the two that keeps Isak sane.

He doesn't know how his mom did this for so long. He's not sure how much longer he has, of course, but his numbers dwindle with every fall, every laugh, every word from his mouth.

Isak is at 201 when his doctor tries to give him something stronger, something he doesn't want, after he falls down the stairs and breaks a rib.

He absolutely refuses because he knows what the chances are of addiction, especially in his family. His grandfather was an alcoholic and had a benzo problem for decades.

He probably had the gene and so Isak probably does too. No. He won't die an addict. He won't die a failure.

-

Things start to crumble around the family they’ve built like ash falling from a burning building.

Prometheus, who is now perhaps older than even dirt, goes to bed one night on Isak's feet and never wakes up. Isak calls him, repeats his name, until it hits him and he sobs. He cries for hours and hours and hours because he loves that dog so much that it hurts.

Isak can barely sit up, but he grits his teeth and bears the pain for a being who gave him everything. For his best friend that was there for the goods and the bads and even the very bads, who loved Isak unconditionally. He was Isak's family, one of a select few, and now he's gone, too.

Even comes home from a checkup with his doctor to terrible news. They cry and reminisce and bury Prometheus in the backyard of their home in a grave that Even digs because Isak can't. Isak can barely manage the pain from sitting in the wheelchair, let alone being able to stand and wield a shovel.

Even holds his hand as they say their farewells and then helps Isak toss a handful of dirt into the grave. Isak's fingers won't close around the soil, so Even cups his hand from underneath and basically has to do it for him.

It’s then that Isak knows what comes next. What comes for both of them.

He composes his will and Even does his because their numbers are both so tragically low. They leave the remainder of their money to charities for illness and animal adoption. Muse, they leave to Jonas, who agrees to take her “on the off chance I don't die before you”. But Jonas still has 30k on his clock, so Isak isn’t worried about “off chances”.

-

Isak's losing the ability to speak by age 50. He's at 150 whatevers left and he can't even say sentences without stopping to stutter or trip over his words. Even notices, but never mentions it. Always waits patiently for Isak to make sense of the syllables and sounds and letters. Makes another appointment with another doctor.

"I can't...I can't even talk anymore, Even," Isak says. "What's even attractive about...m-e...me...anymore?"

"Everything," Even replies and kisses him on the mouth. "You're still as beautiful as the day we met."

"L-L-Liar."

-

After that, Isak can't even get out of bed and Even is basically his nurse. He does everything Isak can't and it's so heartbreaking, this turn their relationship has taken, that Isak sort of spirals emotionally.

It's absolutely miserable. Isak is miserable. He doesn't think anything could make his life worse, but he's wrong.

He chokes on his dinner. It’s the first, but not the last, time and it frightens him and Even to death. He sits awake for hours and stares at his ceiling, shaking body wrapped in Even's gentle arms, dreading what the future will bring because he knows what comes after this stage. Soon, he won't even be able to eat, or go to the bathroom, or turn pages in books. Soon it'll be over and he'll be left a dopamine-deprived carcass with a medical marijuana card.

He cries when he decides what he wants to do. He cries and cries because he's not like his mom. He’s nowhere near as strong or as brave or as desperate to survive.

Isak just can't take the pain anymore.  

“Even,” Isak whispers one night after Even's number drops once more down to one. “I can't do this anymore.”

Isak can’t bend his fingers at will anymore and his best friend is dead. Even is practically bathing Isak now because his legs are so stiff, he can't bend his knees or his ankles or even his toes. This has to be it for them.

Neither of them deserves to suffer like this.

Their numbers are already low; they’re already destined to die. Isak rashly decides that they might as well do it together. Painlessly.

“Even,” he says and then, with a practiced rhythm, and a lot of effort,  _ “la oss...oss...dø sammen.” ~~(Let's die together)~~ _

_ “Hva?” ~~(What?)~~ _

_ “Jeg vil ikke...ikk-e... _ **_ikke_ ** _  lide lenger. Jeg vil ikke at  _ **_du_ ** _  skal lide len...len...lenger.”  ~~(I do not...not...~~ _ ~~_ not _ _  want to suffer anymore. I don't want  _ _ you _ _  to suffer any...any...anymore.) _ ~~

The words are so hard to push out now; Isak’s voice is as thin as paper.

“No, Isak,” Even whispers in his beautiful accent, sounding so tired his voice isn’t even awake anymore. “Our numbers are dwindling already. We might as well stick it out.”

“And what? What if you go first and I...I..I have to watch you decay. Bury you. Sit in that damn wh...wh...wheelchair because I can’t stand on my own and look down ground into...fuck. I mean— _ into _  the ground...as they  _ fucking _  lower your casket into it? No! I can’t. I won’t.” If his voice was stronger, he'd be frantic.

“How exactly would you like we do it, then? Do we jump off a bridge? Walk into a burning building? We can’t very well do either of those things, Isak,” he says softly, “because you probably couldn't walk far enough or even lift your legs over the railing to go through with it."

It’s true, but it doesn’t stop it from hurting. Isak winces.

“Please, Even.”

“You’re at 41, Isak, and I’m at 1. There isn’t much left to do but wait. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and die in our sleep.”

Isak shakes his head over and over and over because they’re never lucky. Neither of them. But relents.

Even isn’t right, of course, but Isak won’t argue the point anymore. He’s too tired to.

Instead he sighs. Reaches for Even’s hand across the space on the couch over Muse.

“I love you,” Even says in that final tone that means  _ hold kjeft. Jeg har rett. ~~(Shut up. I'm right.)~~ _

After nearly 3 decades together, Isak can hear it as easily as a car horn or a police siren.

“I l-love you, too.”

-

Isak's newest doctor is a shrink. Or, well, he's as close to it as Isak thinks he can get. Doctor Fossbakken is a short, blond man with blue eyes and an uncomfortable laugh. His number is over 400,000, so it's not like he can even begin to understand what Isak and Even are going through, but he tries, at least, and he doesn't seem to pity them. He's also a little bizarre and he asks Isak questions he usually doesn't have answers for, but he's nice enough.

Even seems to like him at least.

Dr. Fossbakken’s— or Magnus, as he prefers and insists on being called— mother, apparently, was Swedish, so they speak a similar language, which means Isak's broken Norwegian will never be enough to keep up. It's daunting, Isak realizes. Staring down at something he probably won't live long enough to master. It's also terrifying.

"Isak," Magnus says, "can you repeat the words I said to you at the beginning of the session?"

The sessions were usually only about half an hour or so, but that was enough time for Isak's addled brain to forget.

He tries to recall them anyway.

"Um..." He glances at Even who is puttering around in the kitchen. "Were they...FIFA and...and...and...cellulose?"

"Close," he smiles and Isak realizes his teeth are a little crooked. "They were  _ fy faen _  and cellulite."

Norwegian curse words are funny and Isak remembers Magnus saying it now. Fuck.

"I fucking suck at this."

"It could be a lot worse," Magnus says unhelpfully. "They were both really close this time. Same sounds, really, so don't get too down about it."

"You're so opti...optimistic," Isak says, rolling his eyes. "Why'd you become a shrink when you could've been a talker? Shit. I meant... _ motivational speaker?" _

Magnus completely misses the sarcasm, possibly because Isak's speech is so bad, so he goes on to explain why he'd chosen this profession instead—"I'm  _ not _  a shrink, by the way!"—and Isak tunes him out. Looks over at his beautiful husband and smiles.

Even smiles back.

-

Isak is at 3 before he knows it.

He wishes he could find out what they mean, what they stand for, but he doesn’t think anyone ever will.

It’s just another mystery in a life full of them.

He smokes a whole lot of weed, which makes him feel a little better, and sits outside with Even in their backyard as the sun sets. The August air is cool on Isak's bare arms and the light from the setting sun makes Even look stunning and so, so, so young.

Oh, to be young again, Isak thinks. How he wishes they could go back.

“It’s b-beautiful, isn’t it?” Isak whispers. “Glad I got to see-ee it once mo-ore.”

He can’t do much other than whisper anymore and even that is exhausting. Sometimes, he loses complete control and nothing comes or everything comes out at once as one awkward sound. So embarrassing.

Even is much older now (as is Isak, of course) and yet he is still so beautiful and so broken and so sad. Isak imagines he must think the same broken things about him.

“I miss Prometheus,” Even whispers as he watches. “I miss my parents.”

“Me, too,” Isak agrees.

He’s had some issues with his memory lately, but even he can remember the beautiful dog he’d rescued from that car. What kind was it again? A Honda Civic?

What color was it?

Grey?

The little things—Isak can’t remember. He can’t remember what his old apartment looked like or what kind of car Even drove. He can’t even remember the day they got married very well.

It’s terrifying to lose things like that, like sand slipping through his fingers, and Isak can’t wait for it to be over already so he can stop forgetting. For both of them to stop suffering.

"Should we head inside then? We've got an early day tomorrow...that doctor's coming to check your memory again."

“Magnus?" Even nods. “Ugh.”

That doctor is a fucking nutter. He's not even funny about it, either. He just drones on and on and on and expects Isak to remember what the first thing he said was, which is completely ludicrous considering Isak has end stage Parkinson's Disease and is high as fuck most of the time.

“Read to me?” Isak says softly because he can’t himself. “Just for a li-little while.”

“Just for a little while.” Even concedes, smiling a little, and then he retreats into the house to find a book while Isak waits in the pale grey light of the sunset.

Isak watches the sky and wonders if this will be his last sunset. Wonders if this will have been the last sunny day. Wonders if he’ll live long enough to see Jonas’ wrinkly face again. Wonders if he’ll die before Even even returns with his book.

But he doesn’t.

“We started this one last week,” Even says, pushing past the sliding door, “and I’ve been curious ever since.”

Isak probably couldn’t remember last week if he tried, but he smiles and nods nonetheless.

“It was about the two people who fell in love over a shared hatred for their families’ business. Aaron’s family drilled for oil illegally and made money by selling it to the government off the books and Zain’s family bought small, mom-and-pop farms and turned them into factories where the animals were treated like shit and stuff. Remember?”

Isak does, sort of. Vaguely. So he nods and Even grins.

“There’s not much left...but here it goes:

> “Aaron knew what they were in for when they announced their love. He knew it to the pit of his soul. He knew his father would punish him severely and his mother would cry tears of sadness because her son could birth her no grandchildren. No heirs. He knew Zain’s parents would probably ship him off to a camp somewhere in the South to “fix” him and Aaron’s very own father would probably try and beat the gay out of him.
> 
> “He knows what is to come and it’s the desperation that makes him say it. That makes his mind even go to that dark of a place. He doesn’t want to live through that. To feel his father’s familiar fists pound and smack and punch his flesh until he’s bloody and bruised and maybe even dead. He doesn’t want Zain to have to bear the weight of a conversion camp or worse. He doesn’t want to see the looks on his parents’ faces. So he makes a plan. He makes a plan and Zain agrees it’s the only way.
> 
> “They have to fake their deaths to save any future they may have.”

-

> “Aaron kneels at Zain’s side, fingers fumbling around for a pulse on his wrist or his neck. He presses an ear to his chest and hears nothing, not even the rattle of a cough.
> 
> “No!” He shouts and springs back in horror.  _ “No!” _
> 
> “He can’t be dead! That’s not supposed to happen! Nothing like this was supposed to happen! Aaron is shaking his head and then he’s crying and the sobs that wrack his chest feel like tidal waves, like a tsunami that will never end. Like he’s going to be stuck in this wave pool forever.
> 
> “Zain! Please! Wake up!” He cries out as he reaches forward to shake him.
> 
> “The pills weren’t supposed to be real! The booze wasn’t supposed to get him drunk! None of this was supposed to happen.
> 
> “They were supposed to live happily ever after together in the hills on some European countryside where the sunlight shines and the flowers blossom. They were supposed to be fake dead together and now...now they can’t be. Can’t be unless Aaron makes a terrible, terrible decision.”

“Oh m-my God, Even,” Isak interrupts him. “This is fucking dark.”

“Maybe,” Even shrugs. “Just a little.”

“A little?!” Isak is appalled. “There i-is noth-th-thing happy about this story.”

Even is silent for a moment, his eyes downcast, and Isak watches him watch a grasshopper jump across the yard. Then he looks up, eyes bright with fire, and speaks.

“They get to die together, at least.”

That makes Isak immensely sad. He reaches out and manages to get his hand into Even’s.

“You know,” Isak adds as if trying to distill some tension, “they have an epic love story, at least.”

“True. The lead has to die, otherwise it isn’t epic.”

Isak nods sharply and Even seems content, so he continues.

The last lines of the book are painfully simple.

> “Aaron looks up as his body falls down. He counts out loud.
> 
> “Three,
> 
> “Two,
> 
> “One.”
> 
> “And then he’s gone and the darkness swallows him whole.”

-

Isak and Even sit in silence for a while after the book is done and Isak is glad he got to listen to Even read once more in case he dies, but the book left a sour taste in his mouth that he dislikes. He’s haunted by the end. By the countdown.

It just seems too...real. Too painful. Too accurate.

The sun is long set and the air is cold for late Summer, but they stay outside. Isak is frozen to the bone with a chill that he can’t even begin to understand, so he says nothing, because this might be his last summer night.

This might be his last date with his husband; how fucking sad is that?  
  


“Let's go, love. It's past our bedtime," Even whispers finally, standing up to kiss Isak on the crown of his head. "Come on, Muse."

She stands up from her place on Isak's cold feet and trots back into their home as Even grabs the handles of Isak's chair and wheels him back into the living room.

The glass door slides firmly back into place behind them, sealing them in.

It feels almost eerily like a tomb.

-

Even tucks Isak into bed beside him with two pairs of socks on his frozen feet and the torn remnants of his mother's favorite t-shirt on his chest. Muse passes out on their ankles, snoring so loudly it practically shakes the walls, and everything feels calm. 

“My chest fuckin’ hurts,” Isak says to Even, only seeing his face by pale green light. “Th...t...think-k that’s norm-al?”

“For most people, no, but for you? Yeah, probably.”

“Goo-oo-d night, my love,” Isak whispers finally, words slurring, eyes slipping shut. “I’m f-fucking exhausted.”

“Fucking exhausted is better than dead, at least.”

“True.”

The silence is thin between them as they start to doze off. Isak's body is pained and stiff, but he sleeps easily most nights because he's so fatigued. Even used to be the heaviest sleeper Isak knew and that hasn't changed in all this time because some things never do. It's a lucky thing he is, too, because Isak flops like a fish all night long uncontrollably.

He's so used to it now that he doesn't even really notice which is one of the most terrifying things he can conjure up. He's desensitized to something so debilitating.

“I love you,” Even whispers into the still, dark air and sits up for a second.

Isak can barely see him in the pale, green light, but he still watches. Still waits for Even’s kiss like he waited all that time ago.

Even after decades together, Isak still feels the same thing as he had the first time they had kissed. He can barely remember the day, but the feeling is fresh in his mind.

“I love you, too,” Isak says and Even presses a smiling kiss against his mouth before slipping down to lay beside him, clutching his hand tightly in his own.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/162574450@N02/47278404021/in/photostream/)

-

Doctor Magnus Fossbakken knocks on the door for ten or so minutes before he tries to open it. It's surprisingly unlocked, which is dangerous in this day and age, especially with Isak's condition. He makes a note to himself to tell them to be more careful.

He enters because he's been there multiple times before and is sure they won't mind. They've gotten to be quite close over the years.

The house is still and cold and dark. It seems as though either no one's home or they're still sleeping, which could very well be possible.

It's only 9, after all. Magnus himself doesn't get up this early unless his arrogant secretary, Vilde, "accidentally" schedules early appointments. He's asked her multiple times not to, of course, but she's stubborn, so he's given up on the subject, mostly. He doesn't think she'll ever come around to sleeping past 8.

Isak and Even's dog comes running out into the living room with a toy hanging from her teeth. Muse is quite a large dog, at least 50 pounds, with brindle fur and big brown eyes, and is one of the most gentle dogs he's ever met. Fortunately Doctor Fossbakken is a dog lover, so he ruffles her fur and presses on into the house.

He passes their bathroom and the kitchen and then the dining room. Finally, he reaches their bedroom door, which he taps on with his fist a couple times.

"Isak?" He says firmly. "Even? I think you may have overslept."

When there's no answer besides Muse's panting at his side, he pushes the door open and cautiously steps inside. He glances at them, at their sleeping bodies, hands clutched between them, and frowns.

“Isak? Even?” He whispers into the still air as Muse paces nervously at his feet. “Guys?”

Magnus reaches out to touch Isak’s arm, but his skin is ice cold. Even’s wrist is lifeless. No pulse.

He looks up at the space above their heads and swallows, hard. Muse whimpers sadly and growls gently to get his attention, but Magnus has other concerns.

There are two green 0s floating ominously above Isak and Even's heads like headstones. Like eulogies. Like last words.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/162574450@N02/46363849905/in/photostream/)

The green light turns their corpses into sleeping bodies, like they've just settled in for a quick siesta. Oh, how Magnus wishes that was true.

He just stares at their lifeless bodies for a moment, at two more people gone, and reaches down to try to calm Muse. He runs his hands through her soft fur and breathes out a shaky breath. Despite all of his work as a doctor, he's never seen anything like this, never seen two people so in love that they literally  _ died _  together because they couldn't stand being apart.

Magnus squats down to Muse's height and scratches her chin as she whimpers again. How confused she must be.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he whispers to her, saddened. “I think they’re gone. I think..."

He pauses to breathe out and glances up at them again, at two people who were so full of life and now are both dead. At the circle of life at its darkest.

He wonders briefly who went first. If Even had to watch Isak's final breaths with tears in his eyes. If Isak had to cradle Even's lifeless body in his arms and weep. Or if they both just slipped off together into oblivion at the same exact moment.

If they were that lucky to be saved from watching.  

To the dog, he says, finally, "I think it's just us now, love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!
> 
> i'm so proud of what we ([skamsnake](https://skamsnake.tumblr.com/) and I) have done here! The artwork is truly incredible and I think it's the perfect match for this fic. I was so lucky to paired with you and I hope you enjoyed working with me, too :)
> 
> Leave a comment, let us know how it was! Maybe leave a guess at what you think the numbers mean if you feel like it? It's been so cool to see what everyone else thinks!


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